Arak extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Meadows. Welcome to K Technologies.” Polite, neutral words, but his voice poured over her like rich, decadent, chocolate. The dark, sinful kind with a lingering bite. The timbre vibrated through tissue and bone until her entire body hummed and ached.
She froze, trying to make sense of her involuntary, spontaneous reaction. She’d met handsome men before. Not like this. He was tall and sleek, his form tight with muscle but avoiding the bulkiness afflicting bodybuilders. Chiseled cheekbones and a strong chin held enough smoothness to avoid sharpness. Full lips parted in a smile showing white teeth, but no fangs.
Do they pop out when he needs them, or is their thirst for blood a myth? Do Krinar even have fangs? She gulped and tore her gaze away from his sexy—not sexy, not sexy—mouth to meet his gaze.
His eyes were golden-green, his brows almost black like his short, gleaming hair. One eyebrow arched.
“Earth to Caitlyn, wake up.” Mike growled through the earpiece.
Her face heated. Arak stood there with his hand outstretched.
How embarrassing. “It-it’s nice to meet you.” His big hand engulfed hers, and an electrical charge shot through her like she’d grabbed a practical-joke buzzer. Her stomach fluttered, and her nipples tightened. What the hell was wrong with her?
As soon as his grip loosened, she tucked her hair behind her ear and dislodged the earpiece. It fell to the floor. She stooped to grab it at the same time as Arak knelt. His eyes weren’t golden-green at all, but composed of individual flecks of amber and shades ranging from deep forest to light moss. His woodsy scent wafted over her like an aromatherapy diffuser perfuming the air, except his effect was anything but calming to her senses.
“This is an interesting earring.” He peered at the tiny transceiver, and her thudding heart nearly leaped out of her chest. Would he realize what it was? What would he do if he did? Kick her out? Or kill her? The Ks insisted they meant no harm, but some humans had died during the Great Panic following the invasion and in the failed offensive by the Resistance in Lenkarda. Her pendant cam would record everything, so people would see if he killed her, but she would still be dead.
He won’t kill me. I’m being silly. Get a grip.
“Is it a common to wear jewelry on top of your ear? And only one?” He tilted his head to peer at her left ear. She’d attached simple gold hoops through a single piercing in each lobe, but the transceiver had been worn as a single earring.
Their fingers brushed when he handed the spy device to her. Her hand trembled as she re-clipped the unit to the top of her ear. “Common? I don’t know. Some women do. It’s a fashion statement.” Or a secret transceiver. She bit her lip to suppress a nervous giggle.
“That was a close one,” Mike said.
Arak cupped her elbow and assisted her to her feet. Another riot of disconcerting sensation rocketed through her like fireworks. I wish he’d stop touching me. Shaking hands was expected in business situations, and contact wasn’t unlikely when handing a person something, but what if he needed a tactile connection to read her mind?
She stepped back and fiddled with her pendant then realized she was blocking the video, and let it drop.
Yellow-green eyes fixed on her face. “Do I frighten you, Miss Meadows?”
She tossed her head in a show of bravado. “Why would you think that?”
“You seem a little jumpy.”
“Maybe a little,” she answered. In the earpiece, Mike groaned.
“Have you met many Ks?”
She’d seen them from afar and watched them on news segments, VNs and the networks. Once she’d ridden on an elevator with one, squeaking a hello to his good morning, and then stared at the light panel like her gaze was glued to it for all thirty floors. Did that count? Probably not. “Not really, no.”
“You shouldn’t have said that,” Mike chirped.
She was nervous but still a professional. A producer should coordinate the segment, maybe give an occasional suggestion, not micromanage to the extent he told her what to say and what not to say. “Shut up, Mike.”
Arak arched his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”
Had she spoken aloud? “Nothing. I’m sorry.” She smiled.
Arak gestured to a sitting area in his large office suite. “Why don’t we continue this chat over there?”
Two sofa-like structures faced each other across a see-through legless table hovering in the air. How was that possible? Two chairs positioned at the table’s short side completed the conversation rectangle.
She took a seat on a sofa. Like the chair in the reception area, it instantly adjusted to her body for optimal support and comfort. Oh so casually, she kicked her foot under the table. Nope. No leg. She looked up to find Arak watching her, a slight smile curving his sexy—not sexy—lips.
“Yes, it’s floating.” He lowered himself onto the same sofa. “Force field technology,” he explained. “That’s what K Tech does—we analyze and determine which of our technologies can be integrated into popular usage on Earth. Coming from the mayor’s office, you probably know that.”
“Of course,” she lied. She hadn’t known, because she didn’t really work for the mayor’s office—accepting the position had been a cover to get access to the Ks for her story. VN, an internet news service, employed her as an investigative reporter. Arak stretched his arm over the sofa back, drawing attention to his long, lean fingers. He had powerful hands. She knew the Ks had inhuman strength. He could probably crush her with those hands. Caitlyn adjusted her position for a more direct camera angle. It brought her closer to him.
“I confess I only learned about your visit a short while ago. If you could tell me what you hope to get out of our arrangement, I can better serve your needs.”
Right. Like the Ks worried what anyone on Earth needed. They may have seeded the planet millions of years ago and nudged along the evolution of Homo sapiens, but they didn’t care a whit about the beings they had created in their image. Didn’t care what havoc and trauma they’d wreaked by invading and moving in.
Her eyes had been opened after joining the Viral News team. Before that, she’d been neutral, believing humans and Ks could coexist peacefully. She even may have crushed on a K or two she’d seen on TV. They were handsome creatures. But her informed colleagues at VN had opened her eyes, and she realized, like many people, she’d fallen for the lies and misdirects.
“There has been so much fear and distrust,” she said. “I plan to show what the Ks are really like to foster a greater understanding so we can live peaceably together.” She fed him the same line she’d pitched to the mayor’s chief of staff. She’d told the mayor’s aide she had contacts at VN and could arrange for an interview afterward. Since the failed attack by the Resistance, all levels of government were eager to get on the Ks’ good side. She didn’t tell them she was the contact.
Yes, she intended to show the world what the invaders were like. Knowledge was power. Believing resistance would lead to annihilation, Earth’s government had surrendered—but only because they couldn’t identify a vulnerability they could strike. The Ks had to have some. If she could find their Achilles’ heel…
She flashed an insincere smile. Hunger blazed across his handsome face, and she gulped. An image of him ripping off her clothes and taking her right there on the sofa flooded her mind. Some women trolled nightclubs where Ks and humans hooked up. Sex with a Krinar was reportedly explosive, more so if one was bitten. Between her legs, desire pulsed.
“I’ll try to see you get what you came for,” he said.